I, Legionnaire
by Kerobani
Summary: Ieago is back from Sovngarde. All he wanted to do was marry his sweetheart and cool his heels with his friends. Too bad plans seldom survive their first contact with reality. Rated M for violence and language, mild sexual content.
1. Homecoming

**Skyrim is the property of Bethesda Softworks. Thanks for the great responses to ****_I Companion _****and ****_I Dragonborn_****. Anyone who would like a better idea of who Ieago is and how he came to be lying in the snow on the top of a mountain should check out those stories. Well, that's all I have to say for now and there's a bit of exposition to get over with before the story opens up. Sit back, relax, and let me know what you think.**

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><p>I came back to Mundus atop the Throat of the World. Everything around me was shades of grey in the predawn light of a snow storm. Looking on my outstretched arm, I saw my wounds were closed and lined with thick beads of scar tissue. I sat up to find Paarthurnax and a large gathering of dragons perched around me in the dim light. It appeared they had been holding a council of some kind, but the issue was resolved by my reappearance.<p>

"_Alduin mahlan_," said one.

"_Sahrot thurr qahnaraan_," another.

"_Dovahkiin los ok dovahkriid! Thu'umii los nahlo_t." a third.

"_Mu los vomir!_" They exulted slowly as one.

I found himself understanding them fluently and wished them the joy of that last proclamation: "_We are free!_" They cried again and again.

One by one they flew off into the clouds, calling out in the dragon speech and the common languages with their deep voices, "Alduin is fallen! His Voice is silenced! The Dragonborn is his slayer! We are free!"

I turned and smiled to see old Parrthurnax perched on his word wall. His head was pointed and wings slumped to the ground in grief.

"Alduin earned this," I tried to console him.

"Indeed," Paarthurnax looked up at me slowly. "His doom was sealed when he claimed for himself the lordship that properly belongs to father Akatosh. But I cannot rejoice in his fall. He was my brother once. This world will never be the same." He returned his gaze to the ground.

"You're right: This world is free of his menace."

The old dragon looked up at me again and appeared to smile, "Forgive me Dragonborn. Melancholy is an easy trap for a _dovah_ to fall into. You have won a mighty victory-one to echo through the ages for those who can hear. Savor this triumph! This is not the last of what you will write on the currents of time." He stood up and stretched his wings and neck to their fullest extent, dwarfing even the mighty Odahviing. "I have not felt this young in many an age! Many of the _dovahhe_ are scattered across Keizaal. Without Alduin's lordship, they may yet bow to the _vahzen_... the rightness of my _Thu'um_! But willing or no they will hear it! Farewell!"

For a moment I was alone in the heavy snow before he felt the thud of a landing behind me. I turned to see a familiar red beak inches from my face.

"I wish the old man luck in his... quest," Odahviing said, "But I doubt that many will wish to exchange Alduin's lordship for the tyranny of Paarthurnax's Way of the Voice."

I shrugged, "Those who refuse may find themselves facing the Blades. Or me."

Odahviing made a sound of derision in the back of his long neck, "The Blades are nothing without a Dovahkiin. History will forget them as they have forgotten their master."

"And what is your choice Odahviing?"

"I choose you Dovahkiin. You have proven your mastery twice over. I gladly acknowledge the might of your _Thu'um_. Call me when you are in need. I will come if I can."

On an impulse from I knew not where, I reached up to stroke the side of his massive beak, "Thank you my friend. Do not go far: After I speak with the Greybeards below I will have need of a ride to Dragonsreach."

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><p>The four monks came to the central chamber when they heard the doors clang shut.<p>

"I can see it in your eyes," Arngeir said, his own eyes bright in the dark, "You have been to the land of the gods and returned. Is it done? Is Alduin truly defeated?"

I looked down at my arm, where Alduin left a spine. Other places on my body tingled in sympathy. I remembered how the blood had soaked through my armor. I thought back to the battle, to one critical detail that troubles me a lifetime later, "I hope so, but I am unsure. I didn't absorb his soul after he was killed."

Arngeir and the others frowned at this news, "Perhaps, perhaps not. Alduin is unique even among dragon-kind. The gods may permit him to come back at the End to fulfill his role as World-Eater. But that is for the gods to decide. For now you have won a great victory and learned to wield terrible weapons. It is up to you to decide how to use them. _Lok thu'um_: breath and focus. Let the Way of the Voice be your guide and your path will be made clear to you."

With that blessing I bowed to the four monks, "As I can call on Odahviing's aid, you may call on mine. I will come if ever I can."

The multitude of rebuilt structures was the only thing that looked right upon my arrival in Whiterun. Guards in blue livery greeted me as I alighted from Odahviing on the great porch of Dragonsreach. Vignar Gray-Maine stood behind them.

"Vignar," I greeted the aging Companion in surprise, "where is Jarl Balgruuf?"

"It's _Jarl_ Vignar to you," one of the soldiers corrected me.

The old Companion shook his head slowly behind the row of men and said, "I will meet you in your Jorrvaskr office after sunset, Dragonborn." With that cryptic statement, he took my arm and led me from the hauntingly quiet palace.

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><p>I spent the rest of my day in a deserted Jorrvaskr. Stale and rotting food was still on the table, surrounded by open bottles and an ash-filled hearth. The many trophies and banners of our triumphs were missing from the walls and rafters. In the living quarters below nothing of value remained. Our armor, our weapons, and the chests we kept the profits of our deeds in were all gone.<p>

The silence of the ancient hall was the worst. I felt like a man sent to some plane of Oblivion, damned to walk the depopulated shadow of the places he loved best. Quiet and withdrawn though I was, the hum of life and laughter of the great hall had long since become music to my ears. Not hearing it in so familiar a place filled me with a despondent loneliness. I leapt to my feet when old Vignar entered my office at last.

The questions tumbled out of me, "_Jarl_ Vignar? What has happened? Where are our siblings?"

The new Jarl put his hands up to slow the torrent of questions, "I am Jarl Vignar by the grace of Ulfric Stormcloak. And much has happened in the weeks you've been gone, too much to tell you now. You need to get to Labyrinthian. You'll find Balgruuf and the Companions there."

My jaw fell to the floor, "Why that horrible place?" He and I glanced up at the sounds of iron studded boots on the floorboards above us.

"They had no choice. When the dragons stopped their attacks, we all saw it as a sign you were successful. Ulfric moved fast. Whiterun was not ready to repel a second assault. The Legion and Balgruuf fled the city."

"Weeks? How long have I been gone?" I could not conceive of my journey through Sovngarde lasting more than a few days.

"It's been three months, Harbinger. Ulfric is poised to win the war when it resumes in the spring."

There were shadows moving in the dark of the Under Hall behind Vignar.

I couldn't believe it, "But he agreed to wait until the dragon crisis had been resolved!"

"Vignar leaned in close to whisper and placed the hilt of a weapon in my hand, "We haven't much time. Just put your hand on my shoulder. I support Ulfric because I see in him the last of Skyrim's honor- get ready to turn me around—he is a king who would fight and die for any Nord. His men are behind me to subdue you while I distract you. Use me as a hostage and get to the Underforge. I left some supplies for you—there's a good lad."

I spun the geriatric man around, igniting Revenant in the process. For Revenant it was; repaired by my friends as a gift for my return—or memorial if I didn't—and held the shimmering blade beneath his chin. To my surprise the blade was a brilliant white instead of its former green. The sudden flash and hiss of the magical blade in the hands of its famous wielder gave Ulfric's men pause. I threw Vignar aside and Shouted. Unrelenting Force shook Jorrvaskr to its foundations. The men and women of the militia flew back and bounced along the floor and off the walls. My mouth was hardly closed before I was running between their splayed forms while Vignar's stunned laughter echoed my _Thu'um_.

I bolted out the back door and into the Underforge. The backpack Vignar promised was next to the hidden exit. I crept through the narrow passage and dropped down outside the city walls. I caught my breath for just a moment before sprinting furiously off to the northwest.


	2. Return to Action

**Skyrim is the property of Bethesda Softworks. Thanks for the faves and follows over the last week or so. It's good to hear from you again Chris. Recent guest reviewer: 1, I'm stoked that you're so excited about the coming story. 2, you pose a good question about Vignar's behavior. Since you asked, other readers are probably wondering the same thing. My explanation is at the bottom of the chapter.**

**And before I forget, thank you both for your reviews.**

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><p>I strode through the pointed arches over the southern pass into Labyrinthian. By the time my boots clomped on the cracked paving stones I was fuming with anger. All I had wanted to do upon my return was manage the Companions and make an honest woman of Aela. Instead I got to spend the week walking over windblown compacted snow and wading through waist-deep drifts. At the city wall I was challenged by a sentry.<p>

"Who approaches the refuge of Jarl Balgruuf in his exile?" a grim, worn-down Nordic voice demanded.

"A long-absent Thane returning to his lord, Vilkas," I replied, feeling the first hint of happiness in days.

We collided with bone-crushing force and for a few heartbeats I was able to match his tremendous strength.

The elated man turned and guided me through the crumbling thoroughfares with an arm around my shoulder. Everywhere I looked, faces peered out from old homes and snow-dusted alleys. For a moment I thought Bromjunarr was a living city again, but the more I looked the thinner the illusion became. The men and women eking out a living in the stone houses were mostly people I recognized from Whiterun's militia. Sprinkled among them were a handful of soldiers from the Legion. The rest were the men and women of the Companions. There were no children within the city walls; nor any merchant or tradesman not tied to the arts of war. There was only the pretense of genuine life in the streets of Labyrinthian. The city felt eager to shed these few hundred souls and return again to its isolation and secrets.

Of course I was recognized almost immediately and cries of, "The Harbinger has returned!" and "The Dragonborn comes!" preceded me through the streets to the central barrow where Balgruuf and his bodyguard Irileth made their beds and makeshift court. Among all the familiar faces I looked for two in vain.

"Thane you've returned!" Jarl Balgruuf exulted as I bowed. His embrace was as strong and genuine as Vilkas's. He gripped my shoulders and smiled broadly, giving me time to look more closely at my Jarl. His beard was filthy and untrimmed. It framed a sunken and pallid face. As far as her dark complexion would permit, Irileth looked even worse. "Perhaps our fortune is turning at last, eh?"

I couldn't wait any longer, I was growing ever more worried with each face that didn't belong to one of two women. "Forgive me Lord, but where is Aela? Where is Lydia?" I blurted out.

"They've gone to look at the word wall in Shalidor's Maze," a gravelly voice said from behind me. I jolted in surprise and turned to see Farkas's chest inches from my face, perfectly silent in his armor as always. "Aela's been in mourning for you since the dragons flew over and you didn't return. We're afraid of what she might do. Lydia and I never let her be alone."

I shot a pleading look at Jarl Balgruuf.

"Go Thane. Do not keep her waiting any longer," he commanded.

At the back of the great hall sheltering Shalidor's Maze is a word wall in good condition. Aela was kneeling in its broad enclosure, her beautiful rust-colored locks bound beneath a mourner's shawl. Lydia stood watching her from a few feet away. I stepped softly, delighted to see them and heartbroken by their grief at the same time. I was about to call to them when Lydia spoke.

"We could retrieve Revenant from Vignar. Maybe find the shrine of Akatosh in the south and leave it as an offering. He'd have liked that," Lydia suggested.

Aela craned her neck to look up at the alien letters scratched on the face of the wall. "Farkas told me once Ieago could understand the words if he looked long enough," she remarked as if Lydia had said nothing. The word for 'fear' burned brightly above their heads.

"I wonder what they say," Lydia replied dutifully.

I broke my silence, "Most of them are memorials. This one is a proverb. It says: _The dragon is my guide, I shall not be lost. Though I walk through the Valley of the Shadow of Death, I will fear no evil: for he is with me_," I informed them.

A tidal wave of red and raven hair engulfed me in hugs, kisses, and tears. I buried my face in the side of Aela's neck and breathed deeply of her familiar, loving scent. We clung together a long while. I was loathe to let either woman go. They refused to allow me out of their sight as the three of us walked back to the open city and through the gathering crowd at Balgruuf's barrow. He and Irileth were waiting for me in front of a curious statue made of eight crumbling busts bracketing a ruined dragon head. A map was spread out on one of the cots. At a glance I saw a small collection of red flags ringed by a tight blue border.

"What happened?" I breathed.

By turns Jarl Balgruuf, Centurion Cipius, Commander Caius, and Vilkas filled me in on the disastrous three months after the Dragon Truce. After my departure with Odahviing, the dragons had stopped their marauding to await the result of my challenge to Alduin's lordship. Taking it as a sign of my success, Ulfric renewed his campaign.

The Stormcloak army marched on Whiterun with shocking speed. The city, still damaged from the previous battle, was in no condition to repel another siege so the Legion and most of Balgruuf's household withdrew. Vignar remained, having been appointed the new Jarl by Ulfric Stormcloak.

The 9th Skyrim Legion under Legate Rikke held the west watch tower for a brief time. Then they held Fort Greymoor once Ulfric drove her from the tower. Then Fort Sungard. Then Rorikstead. Now she camped at Robber's Gorge, three-quarters if the way to Haafingar. Ulfric's inexorable advance west halted only by the first deep cold of winter. Falkreath fell under the pressure of two of its neighbors switching sides in rapid succession and the arrival of another rebel army from the Rift. Reclaiming Winterhold had been a matter of sending a garrison from Windhelm. The single cohort the Empire had stationed in the isolated town was now scattered in camps across the ice of northern Skyrim.

Rather than face the shame of exile at Blue Palace, Jarl Balgruuf took his court to Labyrinthian. His children were now in Elisif's care with the other displaced royals she was offering asylum to. Centurion Cipius and his centuries were with Balgruuf at Legate Rikke's orders.

Only fifty Companions were in Jorrvaskr when Ulfric's men came to revenge themselves for our part in the First Battle of Whiterun. Most escaped under Vilkas' command to Fort Dunstad; only to meet with disaster there. Ulfric had been eager to menace Hjaalmarch before the end of the year. He sent one of his armies from Windhelm to meet with Jarl Skald's militia and take our castle. Knowing the fight could only have one result, the Circle and my Housecarls withdrew west to Labyrinthian as well.

Imperial failure in Skyrim was imminent: General Tullius possessed a sure grip on Haafingar alone and a tenuous grip on Hjaalmarch that extended only to the city of Morthal. His three legions were depleted and scattered across the occupied holds. The isolated cohorts raided and burned, but lacked the teeth for a heavy blow or to break through the Stormcloak lines and rejoin their commands. All this happened before the arrival of Skyrim's two surest peacemakers: the months of Morning Star and Sun's Dawn.

"We have the supplies to get through the winter and Farengar assures us that the ruins are safe to shelter in," Commander Caius was finishing, "But when spring comes, we'll have to retreat unless we want to be cut off when Ulfric takes Morthal."

"What about Stormcloak positions in the rest of Skyrim?" I asked. The blue flags showing camps and forts hugged the cluster of red and thinned conspicuously outside that tight cordon.

"We don't know Thane," Centurion Cipius confessed, "The legions have been taxed just staying together. And you just saw how hard it is to travel this time of year."

"What are you thinking Dragonborn?" Balgruuf asked after watching me over the map for a minute.

"I'm thinking of how to end that gutless bastard and get your ass back in its throne," I replied with a hand over my mouth in thought.

"We can't do much Thane. We barely have 800 soldiers here," Centurion Cipius said.

"I agree Centurion, but the loyalists in Skyrim need a victory, even if it's a petty one."

"What do you have in mind?"

I gestured to three blue flags that menaced Morthal from the east. "Stonehills mine, Kjenstag ruins, and this camp between Ustengrav and Mzinchaleft. If they disappear, Morthal has no threats within two day's march. The loyalists will have a victory. Best of all Ulfric's legitimacy will be called into question."

The Nords in the room nodded their approval, but the rest looked confused. "How is that?" Cipius asked.

Vilkas explained his people's logic to the non-Nords, "Because it will be made known that the Harbinger and the Dragonborn has chosen to side with the Empire. Our greatest culture-heroes will have rejected a jarl that many look up to as one who represents all that is Skyrim." He shot me a 'we need to talk' look as he finished.

"When do we begin?" Cipius asked.

"Before sunrise Centurion. Have one of your centuries ready to march on Kjenstag. Commander Caius, have the same number ready to rush Stonehills. I will have one hundred Companions with me to that remote camp. When all is said and done, we'll meet at Kjenstag and see about holding the places we take."

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><p>It was a beautiful morning, but cold even by Skyrim's brutal standards. The breath of one hundred warriors froze before it left our noses. Mist floated up from the pools of the Drajkmyr Marsh behind us, flaring and burning yellow and gold in the rising sun. We were well dressed for the cold: thick fur-lined armor and wool over our faces, leaving only our eyes exposed.<p>

The Stormcloak camp had yet to realize its peril. Aela and a few other archers were hidden in the rocks and thin woods above the camp. The charge into the camp would wait until I dealt with the lone guard pacing across the south approach.

I crept up in the last threads of the morning mist and paused behind the idle soldier as she gazed to the south. Elenwen's dagger slid effortlessly into the base of the ill-fated woman's skull and upwards without a sound. I lowered her to the ground and sheathed the blade, switching to Revenant. Her excited hiss drew the Companions forward and the mêlée began with a roar. Farkas rushed to my side and we tore through the first few Stormcloaks while our warriors swept past us. Alea's archers spread confusion everywhere.

The rebel soldiers retreated quickly. The Companions stripped the camp of anything remotely valuable while I took notes on the officer's map and grabbed whatever journals and letters looked important. When we were satisfied, we set fire to the fur huts the Nords favored over tents and anything else we could not carry.

We arrived at Kjenstag three days later to find that the other captains had met with similar success at the cost of only a few trifling wounds. A brief discussion followed and we decided to abandon the camps we knocked over. Loaded with plunder and buoyed by our minor success, we withdrew back up the winding ramp to Labyrinthian.

After reporting to Balgruuf, I met with the Circle in the empty building they had adopted as their own. I told them my thoughts and with their help laid out a plan to cope with a problem the Companions had not known for generations.

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><p><strong>Psalm 23 is so badass. I couldn't help myself.<strong>

**The next two paragraphs are a long explanation of the author's thinking. It is all strictly opinion on my part and might not be terribly interesting.**

**Unfortunately, first-person narratives do not let us explore other characters when they are not in the narrator's immediate vicinity. This can make characters as complex and active as Vignar appear erratic in their behavior. It is my guess that people like Vignar Gray-Mane, Olfrid Battle-Born, Commander Caius, and Hrongar of Dragonsreach would all be Thanes. They would command the Jarl's militia, provide the housecarls (professional soldiers) that train the militia's volunteers, and advise the Jarl's councils. It is my opinion that Vignar would take these roles seriously. Though he would chafe at doing so for a lord he saw as defiant or indifferent toward the man he holds as Skyrim's lawful king. He would seek any way out consistent with his sense of honor. In this case being named by Ulfric as Whiterun's new Jarl was that way out: It was done without violence to Whiterun and under the authority of Vignar's king.**

**Ieago, ****a newcomer to the city aristocracy, likely did more harm than good by publicly humiliating an elder statesman like Vignar and did little to affect his behavior in the following battle. (Farkas and Vilkas have a different and closer relationship with Ieago. I maintain that a kick in the ass is what the brothers needed). ANYWAY, in their roles as first among equals in the Companions, the two men understand the pressures that inspire the other's behavior. It is that spirit of respect that drives Vignar's actions toward Ieago and the reason Ieago so rarely speaks ill of a man with whom he often strongly disagrees.**


	3. Evaluation

**Skyrim is the property of Bethesda Softworks. Happy new year everyone. Thanks for the follow Chaotic.**

**All you history buffs out there might have noticed by now that this story and the Elder Scrolls series in general are an anachronistic mess. Since I'll be using seveal historical ranks and titles in an inaccurate way, I feel I should outline roughly what they are and their function so far as this story goes.**

**_Optio_: A non-commissioned officer in the Imperial Legion. Functionally similar to a modern Sergeant or mid-level NCO.**

**_Decanius_: A squad leader in charge of nine soldiers.**

**_Centurion_: A low level commissioned officer in command of 100 soldiers.**

**_Tribune_: A middle-rank officer commanding a cohort of 5 centuries.**

**_Legate_: A general officer in command of one Legion.**

**_Quaestor_: An officer given assignments unsuitable to the normal legionary formations. While outside the normal chain of command, they are ranked between Centurion and Tribune, but ordinarily are commanded directly by a general officer.**

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><p>General Tullius and Legate Rikke were arguing again when Lydia, Aela, and I stepped quietly into their offices in Castle Dour. Tullius was leaning on the table in the room and looked up at me in the dim light, a silhouette of menace in his armor.<p>

"Your ceasefire nearly cost me all of Skyrim," he scowled at me.

"Ulfric violating my ceasefire nearly cost you all of Skyrim," I corrected. "I'm here with an offer: The Companions are available for the Empire to hire for the duration of your Skyrim campaign. At the usual rates of course."

The General and his Legate blinked in unison. "And why in the name of the Divines would I want to spend the Emperor's money on your mercenaries?" The General demanded.

"Because you only have a single intact legion. The other two are broken and scattered. Because the Companions are the best warriors in Skyrim. Because if you do, the Dragonborn fights for free," I replied evenly.

Tullius looked over to Rikke, "Legate, that problem Hadvar was sent to solve? The _Dragonborn_ here will catch up and solve it while he supervises," the general looked back at me, "Consider this your evaluation. Fill him in Legate."

With that the formidable man left the room for his quarters.

"So after all this time the Companions are picking a side?" Legate Rikke asked.

I nodded, "Staying out of the war was good policy but when Ulfric attacked our hall, he declared war on us. More than that, I have nearly four hundred people to feed and pay. The men and women of the Companions might think it's an honor to fight by me, but if I can't justify their faith by seeing to their needs, they'll leave."

Rikke nodded appreciatively, "No wonder Tullius likes you." She pointed at a fort on the map almost due west of Solitude, "This is Fort Hraggstad. A lot of these old forts could be used by the Legion this winter, but we don't have the manpower to clear out the bandits that occupy the best ones. I've sent Hadvar with a detachment to secure this one, but now I want you to do it."

I looked at the roads leading to the mark where the old castle was located. "It occurs to me Legate that Hraggstad is pretty remote, and what's left of your legions are already well camped."

Rikke smiled tightly, "You're an observant man Dragonborn. Get the Empire this fort, and we'll hire your Companions."

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><p>"Hadvar!" I called to a familiar face in the small camp just out of sight from Fort Hraggstad.<p>

The man's face was confused for a moment until recognition set in. "Ieago!" he shouted, rushing forward to clasp my arm, "What are you doing here? Are the rumors about you true?" His curious men were coming out from their tents and away from their fires to see who their officer was speaking to.

"Rikke and Tullius want me to take the fort to see if I'm worth the Legion's time," I explained, "And which rumors? I've been away for a while."

"That you're the _Dragonborn_! That after the Battle of Whiterun you flew off to Sovngarde on the back of a dragon! That Alduin is dead by your hand!"

"Where did you hear all that?" I asked, not denying a single word.

"The dragons were shouting it a few weeks ago, '_Alduin is dead! The Dragonborn is his slayer!_' Did you really do it?"

"I had a _lot_ of help, but yes it's true. But what about you? You're a Centurion now?"

Hadvar and a few of his troops just shook their heads in awe. "Not quite, a Quaestor. General Tullius thought my surviving Helgen was a sign of resourcefulness and promoted me. Until winter came on I was doing everything I could think of to harass Ulfric's armies." The main fairly glowed with pride. "I was the one that warned Whiterun that a second battle was coming after you disappeared. Now I'm supposed to be clearing out a few of these old forts for the Legion to use." He beckoned us to follow him to the low rise from where we could see the fort a quarter mile away.

"Most of these places are in rough shape. What's the issue here?" I asked. Hraggstad looked like any of the countless dilapidated piles of rock that lined the roads of Cyrodiil and Skyrim.

"This one has intact walls and a good door," Hadvar explained.

I instantly thought of Revenant and what the blade could do. "If you can get me to that door, I can have it open in seconds," I pronounced.

Hadvar shrugged nervously, not sure if he should believe me. "One last rumor Ieago: It's said that you've taken a shield-maiden of the Companions as your wife."

I started in embarrassment, "Oh! I forgot my manners! Aela, this is Hadvar. He was part of the Empire's 'welcoming committee' when I first came to Skyrim. Hadvar, this is my fiancé, Alea the Huntress and Lydia is my housecarl and particular friend from Whiterun."

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><p>The brilliant sun dawned in a sickly white sky above the bare trees of Haafingar. My friends and I assembled before Hadvar's century on the road to Fort Hraggstad. There was no point in concealing ourselves any longer.<p>

"You're positive about this?" Hadvar asked me for the tenth time. Like many officers in the Legion, he held a deep-seeded distrust of all magical weapons.

After I first outlined my idea, I had needed cut down a tree with the white-hot blade to convince Hadvar and his soldiers that Revenant would work as advertised. My unvoiced concern was whether or not the defenders barred the doors with iron instead of wood. If it was held with iron, we would be spending minutes beneath the defenders' missiles while Revenant melted through the iron instead of seconds of cutting through wood.

For the tenth time I nodded. "Get me to that door Hadvar, and I can get your men into the fort," I replied.

He looked warily at me one last time before nodding to his optio, a towering orc brandishing a spear. "Century!" she called, "Century will form line!"

The eighty soldiers stood in a single line before their commanders.

"Form two lines!" she called.

By turns Hadvar's century was formed into six lines of thirteen soldiers and a few odd men in a seventh. Aela would join that rearmost group, for without a shield and heavy armor she was not equipped for what we were about to attempt. It worried me that Aela insisted on joining the assault. At least Lydia was equipped for what we were about to do. But Aela is not a woman to cross lightly, so apart from a worried glance I kept my misgivings quiet.

Aela gave me a kiss for luck and Lydia and I shouldered our way into the press next to the optio. Yesterday's giddiness among the legionnaires was gone. As I outlined what I would need of them, they stopped seeing me as a hero and looked on me instead as a part of their mission. They were eager and ready to advance before their optio even opened her mouth to order the march. I was honored to be among such professionals.

"Century will advance!" the optio bellowed when I nodded to her.

The march began. It was not as precise as a parade-ground drill or anything close to the rhythmic lockstep of the Stormcloaks' approach march, but there was no wasted motion or kicking of heels as Fort Hraggstad loomed ever larger over the shoulders of the men and women in front of me.

My stomach fluttered when we were fifty yards out and the first arrows leapt high up over the wall before us.

"_Testudo_!" Hadvar and the optio called as one. Lydia's shield was instantly over my head, touching its neighbors and creating the shell of shields that gives the formation the name and appearance of a tortoise. Our pace slowed to a crawl and our steps became precise. I found myself quietly thanking my instructors for all those hours drilling with the other Kvatch guards on how to work with the Legion. The darts of the bandits clattered and thumped inches above my head. Occasionally someone would grunt as a shaft struck squarely and lodged in a shield. We were ten yards away when Lydia's ebony shield shuddered and for the first time someone cried in pain. Worry shot up the back of my neck, but the voice didn't belong to Aela.

Straining arms held in an unnatural position were beginning to wobble under the assault. Now axes were among the missiles being thrown at us, finding their way between the wavering shields.

"Wounded fall out! Close up! Decani, keep their shields up!" the optio bellowed between the cries of agony.

We approached to within a few paces of the wall. The first two ranks split and wheeled to either side of the century, leaving me staring at the door and its huge oaken beams. I was now in the center of the first rank. Amidst the screaming of the defenders and the rain of falling shot, the simple oaken doors of the fort looked like the gates to Oblivion itself.

The optio threw me forward. Lydia spun and pressed her back to me as a second shield while I did my work. I peeled my face off the door and lit Revenant, thrusting the white blade into the seam and pushing down. Beside me soldiers pushed and a thread of fragrant smoke rose from my cut. If it was not such a heavy thing, I would tell you that the doors _popped_ open under the weight of the soldiers as Revenant finished cutting through the wooden beams holding the fortress shut. For a bewildered second I stood there, looking at the array of shields and weapons leveled at me.

The optio flung me aside like a toy and brought Hadvar's century forward, an eighty person animal bent on revenge for the pelting it had just taken. The bandits' feeble shield wall scattered almost immediately. Splitting mauls and sledges forced the doors of the keep and towers one by one. By midmorning the last of the holdouts were dead.

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><p>Hadvar left half his soldiers there and accompanied the three of us back to Castle Dour. It was a pleasant day's hike, filled chiefly with his retelling of our escape from Helgen for the benefit of Lydia and Aela, who only knew my version of the events that day. I was surprised to see a legion disembarking on the docks beneath Solitude.<p>

We passed beneath the gates of the city. Hadvar looked awkward and spoke to me again once we stepped back out into the sunlight. "Be careful where you reveal what you are Ieago," he said, a large hand rubbing the back of his muscular neck.

"What do you mean?" I asked, already having a vague idea of what he meant.

"You're the Dragonborn. For what you did there's not an Imperial-leaning inn or tavern where you would be allowed to pay for your own drinks…" He paused again, looking embarrassed.

"But…" I prompted.

He sighed and got on with the awkward moment, "The Dragonborn is one of our most important heroes. Especially in Stormcloak-sympathizing places, the idea that the Dragonborn is an Imperial _and_ an imperialist is a bitter thought. I'm just worried about the trouble that could come up."

I nodded, briefly touching the red diamond on my pauldron, "It is was it is Hadvar, but I'll take your advice."

With that we stepped into the dark chambers of Castle Dour.

"The Second Nienayan has a fort until spring," Tullius grumbled in acknowledgment of Hadvar's report. I was to find that the man had a way of making even resounding successes sound like mistakes. He turned to me and drew his sword. "Do you know the Oath of Fealty?" He demanded.

I looked to Aela and Lydia, both members of the Circle I was about to commit by association. They nodded their assent. I knelt before the general and placed my hands about the hilt of his sword. He clasped his hands tightly over mine. "Then say it," he commanded.

"I, Ieago Decre of Kvatch, upon my sacred honor do swear undying loyalty to the Emperor, and unwavering obedience to the officers of his great Empire. May those above judge me, and those below take me, should I fail in my duty. Long live the Emperor! Long live the Empire!"

Tullius let me up and continued, "The Legate here started to explain to me what the Companions are to Skyrim. A large group of auxiliaries to police our territory would free up my soldiers for the campaign and keep your men away from the politics of Ulfric's rebellion. I've decided that Rikke will be the one choosing the jobs we hire your men for." I nodded to Rikke with a sense of relief that everyone in the room felt. "Get to the arsenal and pick up your armor. Come back when you're in uniform for assignment."

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><p><strong>Thanks as always for reading. Hit the fave and follow buttons if you liked it. Don't forget to post a review in any event.<strong>


	4. Troubles in the Reach

**Skyrim is the property of Bethesda Softworks. Before I go on, I'd like to single out the review of Chapter 1 by BassTheatre96. That is an amazing review. It is polite, it is comprehensive, it offers solutions to the elements he/she didn't care for. Seriously reviewers, I hope you treat ever author that well. It's what I started posting here to get. Thanks again. That being said, those of you like Chris who just like discussing the story of have the occasional question; don't feel that I'm trying to discourage you. The fact that you think enough of my stories to want to talk about them is something I find deeply flattering. Anyway, the plot thickens.**

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><p>"Men in uniform are sexy Love," Aela teased me three quarters of an hour later. I had finally finished putting on all the pieces of the <em>lorica segmentata<em> issued to me. It was a heavy banded armor over a chain and leather tunic fresh from the Castle Dour blacksmith. It was so new it shined like justice and the broad, kite-shaped shield that went with it did the same.

It was just Aela and I now. Lydia departed for Labyrinthian shortly after I took the Martial Oath with a pack mule bearing chests of gold and a laundry list of jobs for the Companions. Supply caravans needed escorts, convicts needed to be subdued, and messages needed delivering. These were the mainstay jobs of the Companions in peacetime. I hoped that sticking to such tasks would make us safe to employ once the war was over.

"As soon as we retake Jorrvaskr, it's going on a mannequin for display," I muttered back. To be fair, I thought the banded armor of the heavy infantry gave its wearer a broad-shouldered and narrow-wasted profile. Combined with a brilliant polish and red leather backing, the effect was not unpleasing to the eye. For a person accustomed at most to the weight of dragon scale, chain, or leather however, it was not pleasant to wear. Throughout the Civil War or any other time I was to be in service to the Empire, I made a habit of retaining only the dragon-stamped bracers and angular greaves as a sign of rank and belonging.

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><p>"Good, you're here. <em>Battles<em> are won by trained and disciplined soldiers. _Wars _are won by talented and exceptional individuals," Tullius philosophized as we came in. "Ordinarily, you would be sent to one of the forward camps to join a century as a private soldier. But I think you'll be more useful elsewhere. I'm making you a quaestor, you'll be reporting directly to me or Legate Rikke.

"We have a delicate problem," Tullius went on. An aide placed a sword on the table before us.

At first glance I thought it was one of the moonstone blades the Thalmor issued to soldiers working for their Justiciars. Closer inspection proved it to be a more basic weapon. It lacked the stately tapering of that more charismatic blade and the winged embellishments on the cross guard and pommel were absent as well. Cheap knockoff though it was, the captured sword was still forged moonstone: resistant to corrosion, light like tin, and flexible like fine steel.

"We took this one and others from a few prisoners after a skirmish in the Reach. The rebels have been getting their hands on weapons like these for the past few weeks now. Our spies in Markarth haven't been able to find anything, so I'm sending you to watch a camp we've located near the Reach's northern border. Find out where these weapons are coming from."

I saluted and left.

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><p>By its evil reputation, one would expect a feeling of ill-omen to settle on your shoulders the instant you cross the borders of the Reach. This was not the case as we walked across the ice of a nameless tributary of the Karth River, going south into a beautiful highland of rugged mountain pastures. Forsworn camps were common, but nearly all were abandoned. It was not until we reached a cliff overlooking the Whiterun road near the Stormcloak camp that we discovered the reason why.<p>

"More slaves for his brother's mines," I muttered at the group of battered-looking savages tied to each other by their necks being led off to the south by a group of soldiers in Markarth green. I had no doubt that within a day they would be feeding the Sliver-Bloods' greed.

"The Jarl Igmund and the Silver-Bloods have made noises about scouring the Reach for years. I guess Jarl Thongvor finally acted." Aela mused.

"Think they'll be going to the same place the weapons come from?" I wondered.

She shook her head, "They'll be going to the mines. There's nothing we can do for them. We're not here to solve the Reach's problems."

Her voice was more clipped than I was used to. I looked over to my fiancé, she was farther back from the edge of the precipice. Her eyes were narrowed as she gazed at the camp on the other side of the river, completely ignoring the slaves marching below. Her prone body was so tense I thought she was about to transform.

"It's getting late," I prompted.

She didn't turn away from her vigil, "Go back to the camp. Wake me at midnight."

Lightly stung by her change in attitude, I wiggled back from my perch. "Good night babe," I whispered as slid by her.

"Don't keep me waiting Love," she replied in an odd tone.

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><p>Just after sunrise my heavy bloodshot eyes caught the sight of a wagon making its way to the rebel camp on the road below me. A detail of soldiers was already drawn up and eagerly waiting for the wagon drivers to begin handing down the crates.<p>

Inside a minute the first of the crates was popped open. A soldier reached in and came up holding a long-hafted axe. I was too far away to see any details on the weapon, but its bright gold glint in the morning sun was all I needed. I slithered away from the cliff and crawled the short distance to our camp.

Aela and I had dug a small burrow in the snow before pitching our tent last night, keeping our camp under the horizon and warm without a fire. She was still asleep on her side beneath our wool blankets. In the grey light all I could see at the far end of the tent was a tuft of hair. I began the careful process of crawling up to her in the low and narrow space.

Gently, I pulled her rust-colored mane away from her face. "Our wagon has come in," reported, planting a kiss on her pale lips.

She rolled over and sat up to maintain the kiss as I drew back. I sat down in front of her and pulled her lithe body into my lap to kiss her again. One of her hands caressed my chest while mine slid up her ribs to fondle a breast. We sighed with quiet happiness when she parted her lips and our tongues met.

We parted for breath, foreheads touching. "Good morning," I whispered.

Her pale gray eyes looked up into mine with that heart-tugging smirk on her lips. "Just a few more minutes?" she tempted.

I shook my head slowly, "Sorry babe. Duty calls."

It took minutes to pack the camp and return to our overlook. By then the soldiers on the opposite side of the river were finished unloading the wagon. A quartermaster had imposed order on the building chaos and the soldiers were formed in their companies and being issued the new weapons.

The wagon turned back onto the road toward us. Its tired horses kept an easy walk on the cobblestones as we traveled towards Markarth. Alea and I ran through knee-deep snow, keeping well away from the cliff and coming to the edge only once in a great while to find the wagon plodding along on the road below.

We slid behind a pile of rocks near the fork in the road to Karthwasten, a small mining village I knew only as a dot on the map. My lungs and legs felt like lead and fire while sweat ran rivers down my back and chest. Aela dropped down next to me. Her face was flushed from the brutal run, mouth panting for breath, but she was nowhere near as wrecked as me. I did my best to still my breathing and waited for the noise of the cart coming down the road.

To our surprise the wagon's drivers turned from the main road and up the snow-dusted cobblestones leading to Karthwasten. We let them get well up the long rise to the town and followed.

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><p>A confrontation was ending as we approached the small mining village. A group of armed people and the wagon drivers were squared off against an equal number of villagers. A Breton in respectable clothing was speaking with the leader of the armed men.<p>

"Forsworn?" The Breton was saying to the group of thugs, "We haven't seen Forsworn in these parts all winter! What you're doing is ridiculous!"

"Jarl Thongvor has gotten reports of Forsworn activity near these mines and has hired us to secure them until the threat is ended," the thugs' spokesman insisted. The towering Redguard said his lines flatly, as if they were well rehearsed.

"Thongvor just wants me to sell my property to his brother!" The prospector snapped.

The thug drew his sword, a moonstone sword, "My sword here says otherwise. Would you like to hear her argument?"

The miner backed down, "I'll take your word for it," he said sullenly.

"Good. More of the Jarl's men will be coming in a few days. We'll need food and drink while we're here _guarding_ your mine."

With that, the armed men withdrew into the mine at the base of the cliff.

"And what do you two want?" The man snapped as Aela and I approached the village.

We held our empty hands out. "We want no trouble," Aela said. "We're Companions looking for a bed and food for the night. We'll pay for it."

The man kept his arms folded tightly over his chest, "Companions huh? Looking for a job?"

"We fight so others don't have to," I said, quoting the company line.

The Breton man pointed at the entrances to the town mines, "Those rat-bastard Silver-Bloods sent their mercenaries here after I refused to sell my mines. They're here to keep my diggers from working our one good shaft! Get rid of them! I don't care how you go about it."

"You have a deal," I said. Aela and I walked toward to opening of the mine shaft.

"Cowards," Aela spat her favorite insult, "They're only here to keep honest people from their work."

"A mine makes a great place to hide supplies," I thought aloud.

Aela nodded her agreement, "Be sure to talk to the leader before you kill him."

We didn't have far to go. The mine was too new to be large yet, and most of the mercenaries had gathered in one of the large chambers meant to be a future tunnel nexus.

Aela held back, stringing her bow and allowing me to walk up to the best-equipped mercenary alone. The way he sized me up suggested that he didn't think much of me. The feeling was mutual.

He saw a thin man of average height in a black leather cuirass and trousers, the matching boots and gloves fit tightly and had red embellishments. Over these were the angular steel greaves and dragon-stamped bracers of the Legion. A low black hood masked much of his pale, unshaved, and weathered face. A filthy wool cloak was draped over his scrawny form. No obvious sword could be seen among the belts and pouches. There was just a short metal cylinder almost large enough to be a club.

I saw a Redguard in cheap fur and rawhide beneath a corroded iron breastplate. He stood taller than Farkas. He was a musclebound animal who would wield his sword like a butcher's cleaver. Some among his men looked more competent, but the malicious gleam in his eye suggested a vindictive personality that would never suffer others to escape his domination. If I broke him and one other in the group I guessed, the mercenaries would abandon their job in seconds.

"The owner wants you out of his mine," I said to the man who stood with his hands on his hips, making him look yet more colossal.

He knew very well why I was there, but the game had to be kept up until the last card had been dealt. "Master Thonar offered Ainethach a very fair price," He had a voice like rosewood, rich and dark that sounded well with his smooth drawling accent. "Now the Forsworn have been reported in the area and Jarl Thongvor has sent us to secure the mine," he was almost laughing out loud at the transparency of his lies.

I was done with the game. "Get out. Now," I commanded flatly and removed Revenant from her place on my waist.

This time he did laugh, "That is a tall order indeed! So unlike you Imperial! Who are you to make such a bold request?" Some of his men chuckled with him.

"The Dragonborn does not make _requests_ to brigands hiding in caves," I replied with all the studied arrogance of my race behind my voice.

They paused for a second, but the ringleader began laughing again. "And what god would be so cruel as to make the Dragonborn a scrawny Imperial dwarf?" He taunted while drawing his sword. "And who is that ravishing woman with the bow? A pet perhaps? Or your owner?"

That was two insults too far. Revenant hissed our wrath and the harsh light of the white blade illuminated the suddenly frightened mercenary's face. I Spoke to the man before bringing my saber up into guard.

"_Fus! Ro-dah!_" My _Thu'um _in the confines of the mine was a roar that shook the earth around us. The Redguard stood perhaps six feet from me and took the full force of the dreadful Shout. He flew back into the wall twenty feet behind him. I saw his armor and body crumple from the impact and dust flake off the wall behind him.

With a furious cry a Nord with a steel hammer rushed me. I heard a bow snap behind me and an arrow materialized in his throat. He fell gurgling on his face and slid on the ground to my feet.

I counted five other people in the room apart from the two wagon drivers, including a mage with her hands ready.

"You have until I count to five get out," I told them, holding Revenant's blade out by my side. "If you don't, she and I will hunt you for sport in the tunnels. One…"

I hadn't reached three when the last mercenary sped past Aela and I with fearful glances at Revenant and Alea's bow.

We didn't have to search for long before finding crates of moonstone weapons.

"The Silver-Bloods are definitely in on this," I observed.

"That still doesn't explain where all the weapons are coming from," Aela said.

She was looking down at one of the crates where the owner's stamp had been burned off with a hot iron. All the crates we found were similarly vandalized. It was a sensible, exasperating precaution.

"Let's talk to the villagers. They're bound to know something," I said.

"They can at least help us dump these in the river," Aela suggested.

"Next time, I'll be sure to grab one of the wagon drivers," I groused. The frightened teamsters would be on their wagon and driving the horses as hard as they could by now.

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><p><strong>Thanks as always readers. Clobber those fave and follow buttons.<strong>


	5. Troubles in the House

**Skyrim is the property of Bethesda Softworks. I'm grateful for all the reviews, faves, and follows that my stories have garnered in the last few weeks. As to your observation about Aela BassTheatre, I figured that someone as free-spirited as Aela would not like being confronted with slavery. The reason she's being somewhat nasty to Ieago is rather different and discussed in this chapter.**

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><p>Ainethach, the miners' foreman and de-facto leader of Karthwaisten, was not as forthcoming as I hoped he would be.<p>

"Come on Master Ainethach, we just did you a big favor. There must be something you can tell us. Maybe one of the wagon drivers got drunk and ran his mouth one night?" I tried one last time.

The Breton foreman just shook his head, "I'm sorry Thane. But the one you killed told me that if I were to reveal anything about what was going on in my mines, his friend at the Blue Palace would kill me if his master in Understone Keep didn't get to me first!"

I was about to open my mouth to try again when Aela smacked my arm. "Thank you for your time Ainethach. If you ever need the Companion's services again, feel free to contact us when this war is over," I said to him instead.

Aela led me back to the north in quiet. The last wisp of smoke from the village's smelter was out of sight before she broke the silence.

"_His friend at the Blue Palace_," Aela repeated.

I nodded and rubbed the bruise on my arm, "Thanks for stopping me before he realized he said too much."

Aela smiled next to me, "All in a day's work, Love."

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><p>The Blue Palace was a crowded place that winter. As the widow of Skyrim's High King, Jarl Elisif made it her practice to grant asylum to the loyalist Jarls-in-exile and their households at her palace. It was a wise policy that gave me some hope for the young woman's political future. I noticed that while his steward and housecarl were present, the outspoken Igmund of Markarth was conspicuously absent.<p>

I was directed to the palace's dining hall to find Elisif. Stepping in, I saw the young Jarl stooping over to talk with one of Balgruuf's children. There was a small smile on her face and her eyes were wide as she listened to the boy. Her huge baby-blue eyes turned up to me when she noticed my presence. She stood upright slowly and a few strands of light brown hair fell loose over her small, delicately featured face. I understood in that moment how King Torygg must have fallen hard for her. My own heart melted at the sight of her with Balgruuf's children.

"So you've returned from Sovngarde at last," She greeted, "Now that the dragons have stopped attacking, we might just win this war."

"That is my hope, but I came to discuss something more important today," I replied. I leaned to whisper in her ear, "I met your husband while traveling."

She looked as if I physically struck her, "He is safe in Shor's Hall," I pressed. He told me his only regret is that he left you in tears. He bade me send you his love."

"Harbinger?" Balgruuf's oldest son spoke. Frothar was perhaps twelve, "Do you have anything from father?"

I shook my head, "Just news. He sends his love to all three of you. And a promise that he spends every waking moment working to give you a home to go back to."

"Meet me before my throne in a few minutes, Harbinger," Elisif commanded.

Resting on Jarl Elisif's lap was a beautifully carved ox horn. The both ends were capped with gleaming brass.

"This was my husband's war horn. I don't worship Talos, but he did. I would like you to leave it at a shrine of Talos in his memory. Do this and you will be a Thane when you return," Elisif commanded.

It may well have been the last valuable thing of Torygg's that his loving wife possessed. I took the horn from her hands and left without a word.

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><p>A long while later I found myself kneeling before a statue of Talos. Torygg's horn rested at the god's feet among a handful of coins, broken weapons, and even a note from a bereaved husband pinned by a stone. Aela and I were on a spit of land well to the north of Solitude. This was as close to Atmora as one could be and remain in Haafingar. Not far to the north, great islands of ice floating on the current drifted lazily under the winter sun.<p>

The shrine was a statue of a man in armor. Tiber Septim was stepping on the neck of a serpent with a sword poised to drive downward. The 'memorials' in Cyrodiil to our greatest emperor were less graphic. They depicted a clean-shaven Tiber Septim wearing a cloak instead. His right was hand resting over the pommel cap of a great sword with a cruciform hilt. Yet the similarities were there to see: The same downward gestures of power and dominance, the same grim bearing, and the same venerable aspect. Even if I didn't believe in his divinity, I would still revere him as a private does a general who brings victory.

"_How does it come to this_?" I prayed while Aela looked on, arms crossed and an impatient look on her face. "_When you were just a kid on a boat from Atmora, did you know who you would become_?" I asked the god of war.

As is the usual case, the Divine being prayed to didn't respond in any way I could notice. I turned and left with Aela's hand in mine.

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><p>"She's pretty," Aela remarked of Jordis the Sword-Maiden during a quiet moment in our bedroom the night after Elisif made me a Thane. We were in Proudspire Manor. The three-story mansion had come with my new title and a stunning blonde housecarl.<p>

"I'm spoken for," I replied. I had a good idea where this argument was going. It was after all a question I had been wrestling with myself, but when Aela is upset you_ do not_ speak for her.

Her eyebrows shot up and her arms crossed over her chest, "Really?"

I sighed, thinking only to reassure the woman I loved, "Aela you know you're the only one for me."

I reached out to hug her, but the angry woman twisted away, "I'm getting tired of seeing the people I care most about leave Ieago! Skjor promised to be by my side and now he's gone! You've been to Sovngarde once already! Life's too short for promises! Papa, Ma, Skjor, Kodlak, _you_; I don't want to be left behind again without even the consolation of being a widow!" She yelled. "What we do is so dangerous. I wouldn't want life any other way, but when one of us dies I want to know that the other will find them again!"

Tears inched down her face. My chest heaved at the sight. It was so rare to see Aela in this state and she is seldom more beautiful. I found myself on my knees before her again, my hands clutching hers tightly.

My voice trembled as I looked up at her, "I love you with every shred of my being Aela, but I can't be your husband like this! My lord is an exile. Our home and Jorrvaskr are held by invaders. How can I be worthy of you if I can't even offer you our home and safety?" she tried to pull out of my grip, but I held tight, "I promise you Aela. When we can go home; not to this _house_ in a strange city, our _home_. When our friends can bear witness. Whatever else might be, I will make you my wife!"

That night we held each other fiercely in the aftershocks of our fight, making love while wrapped tight in the blankets of our bed.

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><p>I woke up freezing cold in the middle of our bed early the next morning. I looked over to see that I had driven Aela to the edge, but she took most of the blankets with her.<p>

"We need to work on this," I said, not sure if I was referring to our argument last night or the situation when I woke up.

She woke quickly and laughed at the situation. It occurred to me that she and I had been sleeping together for a long while, but only a handful times shared a full-sized bed.

"We've been on the roads almost a year," she observed quietly.

The fatigue brought on by that thought made me desire nothing more than to drag one of the blankets away from her and go back to sleep.

_Months on end wandering the wilderness. Is this the best I can offer her?_

I sighed and got up, pulling on my legionary armor piece by piece. Steward Firebeard indicated that I would be expected early to attend court. Aela appropriated one of my tunics and padded downstairs while I was getting dressed. I came down to the kitchen to see that she had a fire going and water heating in a kettle for the morning coffee. Breakfast was had in an easy silence. I was almost overwhelmed by the surreal thought of the Dragonborn and his werewolf girlfriend enjoying a quiet domestic ritual. The spell was broken when she kissed me goodbye at the door.

"Don't keep me waiting, Love. I don't want to spend the whole day sitting back on my haunches."

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><p><strong>Among my models for Aela's character (there are several) is a beloved pet dog that has since passed away. I was her third owner by the time I adopted her. Her chief neurosis was a fear of being left behind. Given that Aela has seen so many people close to her go where she can't follow yet, I'm guessing that she shares this fear. I feel it reflects poorly on Ieago that since asking for her hand (almost a year ago at this point,) he hasn't done much recognize and allay her fears.<strong>


	6. Troubles in the Office

**Skyrim is the property of Bethesda Softworks. I get nervous when I receive reviews lately. Describing a complicated, strained relationship is not something I've done before. Thanks as always for your input Chris. Guest, I hope to God I haven't led you on an eight-day snipe hunt. I wrote in an extra Talos shrine because it didn't make sense to me to have Ieago hike halfway across the Kingdom at that point in the story. As for him being smooth when he talks to women, I think the jury's out. It might be more accurate to say that he knows how to talk to Aela. It's a significant proportion of why she puts up with him. As for the whole alcohol issue in Skyrim, that's one of the few historically accurate themes in the game. Wine, beer, and mead were huge parts of ancient and medieval diets and were also used when local water was unsafe to drink! Some English sources mention rations of up to a gallon of beer a day for every man, woman, and child!**

**Before I go, I'm grateful for the handful favorites and follows that have cropped up around this story and my older two. I'm glad _Companion_ and _Dragonborn_ still get regular hits.**

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><p>A finger jabbed into my neck just before I began to nod off on my feet. Morning court at the Blue Palace that day was mundane in the extreme. Petitioners from all over the Hold had come to plead their cases before Jarl Elisif and her steward. It was all property disputes generations old, pleas for guards to investigate suspicious caves, taxes to be raised, and fines to be assessed. I never dreamed that the Nords could be such a litigious people.<p>

At last Falk Firebeard called a halt for the afternoon meal. I turned to my new housecarl and catalyst for my most recent fight with Aela, "My first day as a courtier and I'm already beginning to fade," I complained to her. My attempt to break the ice was as miserable as she must have felt last night. I'm positive Jordis heard everything last night.

"This was an easy morning Thane. Stick around this afternoon when Thane Erikur tries to convince Jarl Elisif to reinstate the tax breaks he got from King Torygg," Jordis replied stiffly.

She was about Lydia's age or slightly younger and equally beautiful. That was where the similarities ended. Lydia had dark hair, lips, and eyes. Jordis was the 'classical' fair Nord with blonde hair and blue eyes. Where Lydia could be sarcastic at times, I got the impression that Jordis would avoid that attitude; instead she held herself as a young woman trying to sustain the maturity of a person ten years older. It was not a habit I was wild about. If my life was any indication, in her line of work that decade between twenty and thirty would do plenty to beat the shit out of her without needing any help. How people as old as Vignar or Kodlak must look on people as old as Vilkas or me would be a deep insight indeed.

"What should I know about Thane Erikur?" I whispered.

"That he's right behind you," Jordis replied.

I spun around and fixed a smile on my face at the tall, middle-aged man in a blue outfit with gold trim.

"So you're the newest Thane of Haafingar. I suppose Elisif is handing the title out to anyone these days," he said.

"Were you recently thaned too?" I asked with false innocence.

The corner of Erikur's mouth twitched before he spoke again. "A few words of advice from a person of importance to a newcomer here in Solitude: Keep your wits about you. And if you want to know something, don't get caught asking questions."

I gave Thane Erikur a stiff and shallow bow. "You're too kind Thane. I'll be sure to keep your precepts in mind."

We went our separate ways. "Let me rephrase: Tell me what I need to know about Erikur," I said to Jordis as soon as she and I were across the room from the man. He was speaking with two other well-dressed strangers; evidently with some authority. They clung to his every word.

"He's Supercargo of Solitude Harbor for the East Empire Company," Jordis explained.

That gave me a real pause. The EIC was one of the two largest shipping concerns in the known world. The Company (and in Tamriel there was only one _The _Company) was chartered by the Emperor himself. It held transport and distribution monopolies on some of the most valuable commodities on Tamriel: Unworked ebony, raw malachite, certain narcotics, silk, and black pepper among them. If you bought those things legally, you did so with the blessing of the EIC. As the overlord of The Company's huge facility at the harbor below, Erikur was a man of real earthly power and access to the Imperial treasury. No wonder he had been throwing his weight around when he came over to bully me. He carried real weight.

"Tell me about his enemies," I said next.

"It's more discrete if you don't stare at him Thane," Jordis admonished me gently.

I walked over to the balcony at the top of the stairs to look down at the people milling below the throne room.

"Jarl Elisif is at the top of his list," Jordis continued. "Dead King Torygg gave Erikur many concessions and tax breaks. One of Elisif's first actions was to reverse her husband's favoritism. He's been pressing her to get the tax breaks back."

"And she's refusing, which is a stab at his wealth and ego," I finished with a hand over my mouth.

Jordis nodded, "I take it you've already seen how he handles rejection."

"When we get back to Proudspire, the three of us have some planning to do," I told her as we followed the crowd into the dining hall.

* * *

><p>Late that same evening, Aela and I made our way into the East Empire Company's warehouse. The company purser's office was located at the very back of a huge cavern beneath the mountain Solitude was built upon. The small wooden office was a mundane affair furnished only by a few desks and filing cabinets, but the view of the EIC's Solitude base was breathtaking. The storage areas below the office wrapped around quays large enough to serve three galleons at a time. Cranes set high in the walls could shift tons of cargo to any of the shelves cut in terraces up the walls of the giant room. The largest door in Skyrim protected the shallow waters of the cave from the elements outside.<p>

Aela and I discovered one of the purser's secretaries taking advantage of the quiet night to get ahead of his work. He was propped in a corner now and would wake up around dawn with a nasty headache and a concussion. Alea was outside in the dark while I poured over the ledgers for anything remotely connected to moonstone or weapons imports. While the number and variety of weapons leaving Skyrim was staggering, there was nothing to suggest that the moonstone arms in Stormcloak hands were arriving through The Company's Solitude base.

I replaced the last ledger on its shelf and shut the door behind me. Aela materialized from the shadows and led me back to the exterior docks.

* * *

><p>There were several more hours until sunrise, so I decided to push my luck and investigate Erikur's personal office. The self-styled Baron of Solitude's home was of a modest size for his station in life, but within a stone's throw of the Blue Palace. I popped the lock on the servants' door and let myself in.<p>

The interior of Erikur's corner house was a monument to taste and wealth. The servants' quarters were austere, but immaculate. Each bunk had a heating iron at its foot for the sleeping occupant. A woven carpet kept the cold of the slate floor in check. The hallway outside was lined with darkened candelabra hanging from the far wall. A luxurious, footstep-deadening carpet led from the front room to a rare mechanical clock at the rear of the house.

I passed a store room and came to an office space at the end of the long hall. A lantern was unmasked as I stepped around the corner. Yellow light illuminated Thane Erikur. He was sitting in an overstuffed leather chair, wide awake and unsurprised to see me.

"What did I tell you about getting caught?" Erikur scolded me quietly. His steepled fingertips taped lightly together below his chin. A door behind me opened and I heard iron scraping on leather. I opened my mouth to reply but he cut me off, "_No_, you're not supposed to reply. A third piece of advice: learn when to keep your mouth shut." He looked behind me, "Show him out," he commanded.

I landed face-first on the cobblestones at the foot of Erikur's front steps. Picking myself up, I saw the man smirking at me from behind his housecarls. "See you in the morning Thane," he mocked before turning back into his house.

Soundly beaten, I slunk back to Proudspire Manor. I cleaned my handful of scrapes in the kitchen, disrobed and crept into bed next to Aela's sleeping form. She sighed to acknowledge my presence and pressed herself back into me. I wrapped my arm around her waist and nodded off, feeling some of the sting come out of Erikur's rebuke.


End file.
